


Merrily We Roll Along

by mattzerella_sticks



Category: Hollywood (TV 2020)
Genre: 1940s, Actors, Alternate History, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Breakfast, Communication, Diners, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fans, Gay-Friendly Establishments, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Lack of Communication, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Microaggressions, Nonverbal Communication, Past Abuse, Post-Series, Press and Tabloids, Rumors, Suggestive language, Sweet, supportive boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: With their careers still on the rise and no peak in sight, sometimes Archie's and Roy's lives get a little too busy. Understandably so. Archie's in the midst of writing his next screenplay while the latest opens across America. Roy spend more time on set than at home working on his latest project. When their schedules allow it, all they want is to be together.Can they enjoy a simple morning together, or will the clouds of Hollywood cast a heavy shadow over their sunny day?
Relationships: Archie Coleman/Rock Hudson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Merrily We Roll Along

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I hope y'all enjoy this fic - Hollywood was super good and inspring. Couldn't help but contribute a little something to the burgeoning fandom 😉

Archie feels the smooth drag of Rock’s hands along his chest, skin against skin. Starting at his navel and scorching a path towards each shoulder with his fiery touch. He smiles as Roy leans down. The whisper of his lips tickling Archie’s ears. “I see you’ve been busy this morning.” It’s coy. Retaliation for stealing away before the sun rose instead of letting its gentle beams rouse them from their entangled slumber. A reminder that in the hours between leaving bed and now, he managed setting up the typewriter but little else.

“I had an idea, in my dreams,” Archie tells him. He brings one hand up and laces their fingers together. Kisses his boyfriend’s knuckles. “And I’ve spent every second since I woke up chasing after it. But it’s damned hard to pin down.”

Roy chuckles. “Thought that was the whole point of dreams?” He slips away, Archie following after. Turns from his work and watches the other man from his seat at the kitchen table. How he tugs on the hem of his wifebeater, ratty old thing rising over the waistband of his pajamas no matter how hard he fights. The way he curls his toes on the tiled floor in an attempt at warming them, having forgotten his slippers once more. And his smile – his smile – how it blossoms prettier than the cherry trees in spring when their gazes meet.

Sometimes you can pin a dream down.

“Are you hungry, Roy?” Archie asks, standing.

“I guess I can eat,” he shrugs, “you cooking?”

“Actually,” Archie reaches out and pulls Roy closer to him. Rests his arms around Roy’s shoulders while Roy toys with the shorts at Archie’s waist. “I was thinking we might go somewhere.”

Roy strikes a match by running his thumb over an exposed sliver of hip. “You want to get dressed today?”

Low blow. He raises a brow at Roy, “You didn’t?”

“I’ve been on location every day this past week, dressed to the nines and everything.” Roy presses his leg into the open space between Archie’s legs, delighting in how cross-eyed it makes him. With how thin the fabric of their sleep clothes was Archie feels all of his boyfriend’s thigh against his hardening cock. “If I never had to wear clothes again, I think I might cry from happiness.”

Archie chuckles, mussing up Roy’s hair further by running his hands through it. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were coming out to me as a naturalist.”

“And what if I was? Would that be the deal breaker?”

He rolls his eyes. Kisses him with enough passion that, if they were in front of a camera, Archie would find it very difficult hearing the director yelling ‘cut’. They break, and Archie knocks their foreheads together. “I should be committed to an asylum if there was ever a moment I wouldn’t want to see your gorgeous body Roy. Especially without any clothes in the way.” Archie pecks at his lips again. “However,” he continues, “we’re already fighting enough wars as it is. We can wait a few more years to pick up the banner for naturalism.”

“I guess that’s okay…”

Archie raises a brow. “But,” he says, “I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing how it might feel, being a naturalist that is.”

“Oh?” Roy barely holds back his laughter, an airy giggle escaping.

“In fact, I could be tempted into trying it… if we eat out.”

Roy brushes their noses together, glaring. His eyes hold no heat. It’s all stuck under his skin, pooling where his body met Archie’s. “As long as most of the day is spent like that, I guess putting clothes on for breakfast wouldn’t be too bad.”

Grinning, Archie places one last kiss on the corner of Roy’s mouth. “That’s the spirit,” he says, stepping out from his boyfriend’s orbit. “I’ll even make it easier for you. We’ll eat at the diner that opened a few blocks up. Been meaning to go anyway.”

“Sounds good.” Roy turns towards the coffee maker and starts putting together a pot. “Why don’t you shower first, and I’ll hop in right after?”

Archie cannot leave without one last touch. He squeezes his shoulder, fingers lingering with his exit. Traces an invisible path on his arm until veering off into open air at the elbow. “I’ll be quick.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yeah, I won’t.”

* * *

They enter in a somber parade, Roy leading with a hung head and Archie forlornly staring at him, shoulders taut with worry. Hands at their sides, twitching, desperate for contact. Brushing up against one another but never longer than a few seconds.

A waitress swings over towards them, fanning menus and fiddling with her glasses. Picks them up for a beat to glance them over and then letting them fall, again. Chain bouncing over her breasts. Perfectly aligned with the ‘i’ in her nametag. Midge waves them in, “Sit anywhere you like, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Archie nods, out of sync with Roy who already chose. He follows his boyfriend into a nearby booth, taking the side that faces the door. Roy watches the shiny tabletop with keen interest while Archie’s gaze never wandered.

Midge returns as promised, doling out menus. “Would you boys like anything to drink?”

Roy, preoccupied with his thoughts, says nothing. Archie answers for them, plastering a Hollywood smile on his face. “I’ll have some coffee, and he’d like an orange juice.” Briefly, Roy shoots a timid glance his way. Archie shifts into a more genuine expression only the other man misses it, head bowed once more.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks, boys,” Midge says, “Take your time with the menus. Slow morning.” She waltzes towards the counter and plucks an empty mug from a stack. Quickly fills it with brew from a nearby pot. “Forgot to ask,” she calls over her shoulder, “Milk? Sugar?”

“Splash of both.”

“Earl!” A man appears from behind the counter, a glass of orange juice in his hand and a bottle of milk in the other. He pours the smallest amount of milk Archie has ever seen, barely enough to fill a thimble. Then, with the same thriftiness, Midge pinches an open bowl of sugar and sprinkles it over his coffee. She sets their drinks on the table and smiles. “Enjoy!”

Left alone, Archie sips at his coffee. His lips tremble with the overwhelming bitterness. Milk and sugar barely putting up a fight, understandable since their numbers were so thin. They were as easily overrun as the Reich were on D-Day. “I guess a splash means something different to everyone,” he jokes, hoping. For a spark of joy alighting in his eyes. A gentle snort. Even a pitiable gifted chuckle.

Instead Roy barely touches his orange juice. Moves it so he can better read his menu without knocking the glass over. Raises the long plastic list up, washing away his features like the tide does with the sand until all Archie sees is the same logo for McCleary’s Cookout they passed on their way inside. Golden letters framed by a soft-edged rectangle.

He finally allows his smile to fall.

Their outing kicked off swell. Freshly showered and caffeinated, Archie did his best locking the door. Fumbled only because Roy kept placing tiny kisses along pulse points. His arms shook too much he kept missing the keyhole until his boyfriend showed mercy and guided the quivering key into the hole. Then, when the lock clicked, Archie flipped them around and slammed Roy into the door. Kissed him until he saw the Hollywood sign aglow. They broke, panting. “Was that your idea of revenge?” Roy asked, dazed.

“No,” Archie said, squeezing his boyfriend’s cock over his pants, “this is.” He slides his palm off, chorused by Roy’s groaning. “Come on. Breakfast _then_ dessert.”

Archie offered his hand, which Roy accepted. One touch and the childish pout melted off his face and was replaced with a more peaceful expression. They stepped into the day together.

“Which way is the diner?”

Archie pointed left, “For two blocks, then we have to make a right.”

Roy nodded, jaw tightening. He made no intention of walking, rather doing his best impression of a statue or a painting. Still life. Archie understood, and he brushed his thumb over Roy’s until the seasick pallor fades from his skin. It’s been so long since they walked the Red Carpet at their first Academy Awards show. Roy rose in his own right after that, Dreamland bringing Rock Hudson and homosexuality center stage in public awareness. Seventy-five minutes on wide screens ranging from the Atlantic to the Pacific did more than a one-night appearance in a room full of fellow creative types that wasn’t even televised. Took the momentum they created and rocketed it to where their kind of love could no longer be ignored. Nor denied.

Seemed like every day more and more people are living as authentically as they are. But there were still rotten apples in the bunch. And you cannot tell what’s sweet or bitter until you bite. People like them, like Roy and Archie, learned prioritizing safety over hunger. Even with all this change those instincts were hard to erase. Carved into the trunks of their being by sharp trauma.

At least they have each other.

“Okay,” Roy sighed, and then he and Archie walked.

They strolled in silence, neither needing anything said. Rather they spoke in a secret language. Shared glances and tangled fingers. A gentle touch along the inside of Archie’s elbow that lingered for half a block.

But then they were ambushed.

Three men with a variety in hair color but commonality in race, happily break into their moment. Each armed with notebooks and one with a camera holstered at his side. Crowding around Roy and bumping Archie into the background.

“Can I get your autograph Rock?” “I loved you in Dreamland, you deserved that Oscar!” “You’re so hot!”

Roy froze, dropping Archie’s hand to better shield himself from his admirers. “Uh…” his shoulders climbed high and hid his neck, “Thank you?” Archie watched Roy try and deescalate the situation, except Roy’s fans confused his timid response with a springboard. Kicked down the door when only a sliver had opened.

They continued their torrent of praise, uncapping pens and forcing their autograph books into his hands. It was too much all at once. Archie saw Roy trying his best at listening while signing his name like Ellen taught him. A lot went over his head, and even Archie admit that he missed a good portion.

Unfortunately, he caught a question he wished he hadn’t.

“You and your co-star, Jack, your chemistry was amazing,” Blond said, eyebrows raised high enough they blended with his hairline, “Is it true, that he’s like us? And you two are carrying on?”

Roy tensed immediately, pen scratching across paper. He stopped halfway through the ‘d’. Stalk shooting far up and into the ‘c’ of his first name that when this fan bragged later, he can only claim he met ‘Rodk Hud’. “What?”

Ginger spoke next. “The way you two laid in bed together in that motel… the camera didn’t show it all but it must have been really something, right?” He smirked in a familiar way, like many men he remembered seeing in bars and clubs. Sniffing around clueless first timers. “You can tell us, we’d totally understand. He’s good looking… you’re good looking… it’d make a lot of sense.”

His boyfriend’s cheeks flared up and he saw him gnaw at his lips. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, gaze locked on the strangled notebook in his hands. “Me and Jack, we’re just good friends. Co-workers. If there were anything more going on,” Roy shifted into Rock, reciting a frequent line they played for the press. “If there were anything more going on, we’d have won the Oscars instead of only being nominated for them.”

“But from what Hedda Hopper said –“

Rock cracked. “Hedda Hopper don’t know what she’s talking about!”

Archie winced at the sudden outburst, reaching for Roy halfway through. Steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. Roy leaned into it and huffed. His fans stepped back, wary.

Dreamland didn’t come without its consequences. Boycotts and death threats were expected. What no one anticipated was the fascination over Jack and Roy’s supposed sex life. Imaginings of lives they didn’t lead. That the characters they inhabited on screen carried over, blurring reality with fiction.

Sometimes quite literally. Archie read a magazine Henry found filled with page after page of his boyfriend and their friend in bed together. It was like the Kama Sutra but white and half of it the missionary position. Flipping through story after story hid him considering changing careers, never to write another script again.

“It’s flattering really,” Henry spun the discovery positively. “These people were inspired by your work and decided to try telling their own stories.”

Archie fought back, “Then they can make up their own characters or – or hell, use mine! That’s fine with me. But Jack and Roy? They’re real people!”

“It’s a fantasy.”

“Fantasy’s one thing, but they published it.”

Jack wasn’t averse at being paired with Roy, angrier over the parts where writers used gratuitous liberty in saying how he cheat on Claire and enjoying every illicit second. Roy said nothing during this meeting. He kept his head bowed, breaths even, and squeezed tight enough that when Henry left his nails tore through his dress pants.

“It’s because of the movie,” Jack offered, watching Archie slowly ease Roy out his shell. Helping however he could. “I bet when awards press wraps up this whole… well will dry up with it. Besides, it took Henry three different contacts before he got his hands on it. This won’t ever hit mainstream.”

A few weeks later, when reading the morning paper, the Los Angeles Times gossip column led with: “Dreamland’s Leads’ Love Lives Live Past Waking Up” Half of one page dedicated to a blurry picture of Roy guiding a drunk Jack out of a bar by his wrist. Archie conveniently cut behind them holding Jack’s jacket and hat.

Avis picked up on the first ring, the same paper in her hand. “We’ll sue her for libel. Maybe this time around the lesson will stick!”

They won their case, and Hedda learned a valuable lesson. Albeit not the one they hoped.

Future stories danced around calling Jack and Roy a couple. Instead Hedda reported on every event they attended together. Conversations that she overheard, where people mentioned what a charming couple they would make. How, together, they make an acceptable example championing their cause for recognition and acceptance. When pictures of Jack and Claire appeared, she always reminded her audience how she is his second wife. Once-divorced always following his name like it were ‘junior’ or ‘esquire’.

And she never mentioned Archie. Even when, in the picture chosen, his hand or arm were still visible next to Roy. Maybe because of how he refused to acknowledge her after the judge dismissed court. Or maybe she still held a grudge from when he made an unflattering remark at a party where they were both in attendance, Hedda conveniently within hearing range. He briefly flirted with the possibility that she ignored him because Archie was black, but decided the targeted erasure went deeper than the shallow pool of racism. Racists at least mentioned him in their articles. In a throwaway line that conveniently left out his awards, films, and career. They never forgot what color his skin was.

Not much time passed before Archie, fed up with the speculation, decided it was not worth his energy. His attention was better spent elsewhere than fighting with people who chose to misunderstand them. Archie knew Roy’s feelings like he knew the sun rose every morning from the west. Journalists and fans held no sway or power in either.

“Look,” Archie said, diffusing the tension between Roy and his fans, “It was very nice, but Rock and I were on our way somewhere…” He glanced at the camera. “Why don’t we take a nice picture and we’ll all get back to our days, okay?”

They agreed, Brunet handing his camera off to Archie. “Be extra careful with it,” he said, tossing an arm around Roy. As if he and his friends knew him for years rather than seconds. “Don’t treat it like you’d people treat your own things.”

Archie brushed that off, too, with a tight smile. He held hope that their morning was still salvageable. “Smile!” More a reminder for his boyfriend, who barely flinched when the fans closed in. _Click!_ “And here you go.” He handed the scratched and dented camera back quickly. “Just as you left it, too.”

The three men, done with Archie, returned to staring at his boyfriend in enraptured awe. “It was stupendous meeting you, Rock,” Ginger said, “thank you for being a voice for people like us, showing how normal our kind of love is.”

Roy huffed, wrapping an arm around Archie and tugging him closer. Smiled, not like himself nor like Roy, a stranger jumping into his body. “Well I wouldn’t be saying much if it weren’t for my boyfriend writing my lines. If he hadn’t won his Oscar for writing Meg why – why I wouldn’t be here…”

They abandoned him with all of the suddenness of when they arrived. Flitting off in the middle of his speech, setting towards somewhere Archie did not care enough about to imagine.

“What a rabid, pack of hounds,” Archie sighed, slinging an arm around Roy’s waist. Hugging him, side pressed against side. “People like them make me glad I work behind the scenes.”

Roy stepped out of his embrace, saying nothing.

Archie waited a beat before following him, “Hey! Where you going?”

“Diner,” he said, “I’m hungry.”

Though Archie expected a return to normal, Roy was struck mute for the remainder of their walk. Mouth preoccupied with chewing his bottom lip. Archie sighed and let the silence wash over him again, its tides much more frigid than earlier. They walked side by side in their own worlds. Close but not enough. Gazes forward and hands at their sides, neither crossing the inch-wide chasmbetween them.

It’s never been that quiet.

The reel of his memory runs out, the projector flickering out until he returns to the present. Roy’s menu lay at his side, but he cannot tear his gaze away from the napkin he fiddles with. Folds and unfolds and folds again in a random pattern. Tens of faint lines impressed into the cloth.

Archie cannot bear seeing him suffer like this.

“Roy,” Archie says, “What happened with those men, I…” Roy continues playing with the napkin, ignoring him. “I’d really like to speak about this.” Nothing. He frowns, aggravation finally seeping in past the worry. “Roy,” he hisses, much sharper, darting out and laying a hand over his boyfriend’s and stops his folding.

Roy glances up, eyes wide and jaw locked tight. Seeing the other’s face already does wonders easing the tension thrumming within. Archie eases the pressure of Roy’s hands and instead threads their fingers together.

“Roy, about earlier –“

“Okay boys,” Midge sidles over, pen pressed against her notepad, “sorry about the delay. What’ll it be?”

Archie flinches, staring up at the waitress. A thousand scenes play over each other as Archie’s nerves carry his imagination. They all end the same. Shadowed by a hideous mask of disgust frozen on their waitress’s face.

Except he blinks, and the disgust fades into casual boredom. Midge raises her brows, “Do you need another minute, honey?”

“Oh, um…” Archie glances at his menu for the first time. “I guess I’ll have eggs and bacon?”

She scribbles on her notepad, “You want toast with that?” He nods. “And you?” she asks, turning to Roy.

“Pancakes and sausage.”

Midge smiles, walking away. “We’ll get that to you soon!”

Archie watches her hand their order off, Earl accepting it behind the counter and sticking it above the window into the kitchen. Then Midge grabs the coffee pot and stops at a nearby table with two other men eating. However, they’ve sat on the same side of the booth. The one closer to the wall resting his arm over his friend’s shoulder.

He also sees two women sitting at the counter, talking, ankles rubbing together like kindling. And Earl, not busy, flippantly reads a copy of TRIM. A clean-cut beefcake flexing for the camera on the cover, staring at him.

Archie faces Roy again, shrugging. “We should’ve been coming here sooner.” Roy sips at his juice in response. Not what he wanted, but at least he kept his hand in Archie’s.

Progress.

“Roy,” Archie starts again, “we should talk about what happened –“

“Can you please drop it?” Roy asks, “It’s not important.”

Archie huffs, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand. “But it is. You’re clearly bothered by what happened, and that makes it important. So… do you want to tell me? Or do I have to embarrass myself in guessing?” His gentle coaxing fails, Roy frowning at him. “Okay… you were upset that they brought up Jack –“

“It’s been how long?” Roy asks, tone bitter like Archie’s coffee, “Why should I be bothered by that anymore?”

He struck the outer ring, but not the bullseye. “It can be annoying… and exhausting. No one would blame you. Certainly I don’t – I know it’s all a bunch of smoke. So, if you think I’m jealous…”

Roy sighs. Before saying anything, he drowns the remaining juice in his glass like whiskey and slams it down. “I know you know. It’s just…” he says, staring at their hands, “I was embarrassed, and hated myself for being embarrassed. Stupid, I know –“

“It’s not stupid.”

“The way they treated you. Asked me those questions in front of you, like you weren’t anyone important. But you are and I… I wish everyone saw you the way you deserve. The way I do.”

Archie’s heart beat like a beatnik’s drum, Roy and his words wreaking havoc on the tempo. “Thank you for worrying about my honor. Makes me feel like a prince…”

The corners of Roy’s lips life, and he scoffs. “Does that mean I’m your knight?”

“My white knight.” Archie lets his other hand trace patterns on Roy’s skin, watching how stiffness lingers in his boyfriend’s body. “That’s not all though, is it? What aren’t you telling me?” Roy looks past Archie and at the rest of the diner, scanning. His grip crushes Archie’s hand, signaling intense thought. “If you don’t want to discuss it in public,” he whispers, catching Roy’s gaze again, “I’ll understand. I’ll back off. Let me know though.”

The lines across Roy’s face smooth out, and Archie knows he said the right thing. Roy weakens the hold on Archie’s hand without letting go. Tangles their fingers while he takes a deep breath. “I guess I am still kind of bothered by all those… rumors,” Roy admits, “Even though I know they’re false it… it messes with me. Brings me back to a place I don’t like where I did engage in acts with my… with ‘friends’.” He spits the word into a napkin and wads it up, scowling. “Doing it while others watched. And I’ve come so far from being that person… but when people bring up Jack. Thinking we’re doing it or wanting to see it happen, makes me feel like all my hard work was for nothing. That I can’t escape what happened to me, or who I used to be.”

Archie slowly drags a finger under Roy’s eye, wiping the tear before it could fall. “I’m sorry,” he tells Roy, “if I had known –“

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why?”

Roy shrugs, clasping Archie’s hand between both of his in prayer. “I thought if I said anything, then it’d be harder to move on from.”

A soft smile graces Archie’s face. “And going on with it all by yourself was easier?”

“In ways,” he says, “I wasn’t bothering you. Making you worry… giving you another reason to tiptoe around me…”

“I don’t tiptoe around you.” Archie waves off Roy’s disbelieving look. “It’s not tiptoeing. I know that there are things that make you uncomfortable and I avoid doing them.”

“That’s exactly what tiptoeing is!”

Archie chuckles, lowering their hands so they rest on the table again. “But it’s not. I don’t think what you ask of me is outrageous. I’m not put out by it. The fact that I can do something to make your life easier after… after everything you went through, makes me happy. I won’t ever feel bothered when you come to me with your problems, just like I hope you don’t feel bothered when I come to you with mine.”

“Never!” Roy turns his head, staring at the counter. Archie gives him time thinking over what he said. Focuses on how warmth spreads from his fingertips and past his wrists, up into his arms. Soon, Roy looks at him. “I guess it was kind of silly to keep it all bottled up.”

“It wasn’t silly,” Archie tells him, “but it wasn’t the best course of action.”

“Next time I tell you, no matter how small I think it is?”

“And I’ll be by your side, seeing you through whatever small thing it is.”

The Roy from this morning joins him now, face splitting with how wide his grin stretches. He laughs and sends chills racing down Archie’s spin.

Midge returns with two plates, coughing. “If you boys wouldn’t mind?” she asks, “I need somewhere to put your food down.” They break apart only for Roy to snag his hand a beat later, running his thumb over Archie’s knuckles. She sets breakfast in front of them, “Enjoy!”

Archie doesn’t wait for her to leave before giggling. “Are you gonna let go?”

Roy spears a sausage with his fork and bites into it. He hums, chewing, “No.”

“No?” he says, “Won’t this make eating a little hard?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. Rather be holding your hand while eating than not.”

“You trying to make me melt in my seat?” Archie says, cheeks burning. He squeezes Roy’s hand and slides his foot forward until their ankles cross like the women nearby. It’s not enough. If Archie could, he would climb over the table, stepping on their breakfast, and wrap his boyfriend in his arms. But his stomach overpowers his heart. “I guess we’ll just have to make do then.” Archie picks up his own fork and takes a bite of his eggs.

Throughout the meal, they run into problems. The diner seemed out of maple syrup, leaving Roy’s pancakes dry. Archie switches his fork for a knife and helps Roy cut into his pancakes, intermittently taking bites of the soggiest bacon cooked. By the time he finishes his eggs they’ve become cold and bland.

It was still one of the best breakfasts he ever had.

* * *

They chose a longer path home, comfortably walking at their own pace. Archie asked if it was okay, reminding Roy of his promise and what waited when they arrived home. “All this chocolate with none of the wrapping,” he teased, “and you’re sure you don’t mind the detour?”

Roy laughed, swinging their hands between them. “I think I should walk off all that breakfast before dessert.” He bumped shoulders with Archie. “Do you think you’ll be able to make it though?”

“Really? You have to ask?”

“Hey, it’s a warm day,” Roy shrugged, “by the time we get home this vanilla ice cream might be a puddle.” Roy’s wide gesture towards his body made Archie howl with laughter, cheek pressed on his shoulder to keep himself upright. “What?”

“I don’t know how, Roy, but I’m putting that in a script. I’ll even credit you.”

Conversation continued like that. Easy, spilling out of them like a drink knocked off a table and onto a hardwood floor. Where the mess couldn’t seep in and stain like with a carpet, instead rolling on in tiny streams. Roy and Archie following those tangents blindly. Over one block, then another. And then across a street.

Soon he and Roy were walking down a crowded street. Sun high enough in the sky that people, fed up with the indoors, chose to warm themselves in its beauty and cool off with a random breeze that passed by every now and then.

Roy was talking, but Archie found his thoughts drifting. At how no one is staring at them. They’re holding hands and no one is staring at them. Archie recently did a press blitz for his latest film. Roy’s face has been plastered on tens of magazine, five in the past year. He’s an Academy Award winning screenwriter, walking next to one of the hottest young stars in Hollywood, and no one seemed to care. They were two men freely displaying their affection, and no one seemed to care. In this moment they are two faces among a crowd, united in anonymity.

Roy squeezes his hand, drawing him back. “What’s on your mind?”

“Dreamland,” Archie tells him, kissing his cheek. “Dreamland.”

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Let me know by dropping a kudos & comment below!


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